By Linda Bark’karie

Keep a leg on each side, and your mind in the middle,
Sit up straight, and try not to fiddle.
Don’t flap your arms, like a bird in flight.
Anchor your seat, to keep out daylight.
Don’t rattle the bridle, don’t jerk north and south,
just flow with your horse, and be kind to his mouth.
When you’ve mastered all this, if I may be so blunt,
it always helps, if you’re facing the front.

The Silence
By Jo Casteel
Vale, South Dakota

I stopped atop a hill
Just a moment, Pake and me,
And heard the muted silence
Of the land that set me free.

And for that precious moment,
A sound could not be heard.
My horse stood very silent
And so did each and every bird.

The wind, it didn't whistle.
There was no rustlin' of the sage.
The land was ghostly quiet,
Like the comin' of one's age.

And for a gracious moment,
I pondered bein' blessed.
How many folks have never heard,
I never could have guessed.

But I 'magine there are millions
Who have never heard the sound
Of a place immersed in quiet,
With God's splendor all around.

And I s'pose that I feel sorry
For them who've never heard
The gentle, awesome quiet
That surrounds the Master's Word.

A Cowboy Christmas Prayer
By S. Omar Baker

 

I ain’t much good at prayin’, and you may not know me, Lord.
I ain’t much seen in churches where they preach Thy Holy Word,
But You may have observed me out here on the lonely plains,
A lookin’ after cattle, feelin’ thankful when it rains,
Admirin’ Thy great handiwork, the miracle of grass,
Aware of Thy kind spirit in the way it comes to pass
That hired men on horseback and the livestock that we tend
Can look up at the stars at night and know we’ve got a Friend.

So here’s ol’ Christmas comin’, remindin’ us agin
Of Him whose coming brought good will into hearts of men.
A cowboy ain’t no preacher, Lord, but if You’ll hear my prayer,
I’ll ask as good as we have got for all men everywhere.
Don’t let no hearts be bitter, Lord, don’t let no child be cold.
Make easy beds for them that’s sick, and them that’s weak and old.

Let kindness bless the trail we ride, no matter what we’re after,
And sorta keep us on Your side, in tears as well as laughter.
I’ve seen old cows a-starvin’, and it ain’t no happy sight;
Please don’t leave no one hungry, Lord, on Thy good Christmas night –
No man, no child, no woman, and no critter on four feet –
I’ll aim to do my best to help You find ‘em chuck to eat.

I’m just a sinful cowpoke, Lord, - ain’t got no business prayin’ –
But still I hope You’ll ketch a word or two of what I’m sayin’:
We speak of Merry Christmas, Lord – I reckon You’ll agree
There ain;t no Merry Christmas for nobody that ain’t free.
So one thing more I’ll ask You, Lord: just help us what you can
To save some seeds of freedom for the future sons of man!

Givn' Thanks
Author Kenneth Watt

Givin’ Thanks
For sunshine  – warmin’ the ground.
For families  – where love is found.
For land – the range, the farm.
For health – kept safe from harm.
For good times – both found and sought
For clothes – stitched and bought.
For houses – where home are.
For food – in can and jar.
For cows – cowponies, too.
For friends – and friendship true.
For churches – the day of rest.
For brothers – each one the best.
For daddy – man among men.
For neighbors – and even kin.
For mothers – and by law.
For sisters – without a flaw.
For boys – from son to man.
For preacher – his righteous stand.
For girls – daughters of mine.
For wife – her love sublime.
For Faith – my very breath.
For Jesus – form birth to death.
For Peace – that deals with strife.
For Salvation – from death to Life.
                                                AMEN

PONY EXPRESS OATH

 

“I  DO  HEREBY  SWEAR,  BEFORE  THE  GREAT  AND  LIVING  GOD,
THAT  DURING  MY  ENGAGEMENT,  AND  WHILE  I  AM  AN 
EMPLOYEE  OF  RUSSELL,  MAJORS  &  WADDELL,  I  WILL,  UNDER 
NO  CIRCUMSTANCE,  USE  PROFANE  LANGUAGE,  THAT  I  WILL 
DRINK  NO  INTOXICATING  LIQUORS;  THAT  I  WILL  NOT  QUARREL 
OR  FIGHT  WITH  ANY  OTHER  EMPLOYEE  OF  THE  FIRM,  AND  IN 
EVERY  RESPECT  I  WILL  CONDUCT  MYSELF  HONESTLY,  BE 
FAITHFUL  TO  DUTIES,  AND  SO  DIRECT  ALL  MY  ACTS  AS  TO 
WIN  THE  CONFIDENCE  OF  MY  EMPLOYERS.   SO  HELP  ME  GOD.

                                                ALEXANDER  MAJORS – YEAR 1860

 

Each rider was issued a rifle, a pistol, and a Bible.

Family
By Kenneth Watts

That tall mans an uncle,
And the short one is, too.
The girl with the braids
Is a cousin I knew.

Aunts? There were seven
When I counted them all.
Most in the Kitchen
And a few in the hall.

Boys are everywhere,
From old to the new.
The old is sixteen,
The young only two.

Men stand on the porch
To talk and tell jokes.
Everywhere that I look,
Just kin and kinfolks.

Brothers – cousins –
And Granddaddy, too.
Nephews – nieces –
Just to mention a few

Kids of all sizes,
Countin’ babies so small.
Grandmother’s the oldest,
But nicest of all!

The whole family is here,
Together once more.
There’s joy in the house,
From the front to back door.

It comes once a year,
This special joy we show.
The family’s together –
For it’s Christmas, you know.

A Cowboy's Prayer
Author Unknown

Jake, the rancher, went one day to fix a distant fence.
The wind was cold and gusty and the clouds rolled,
gray and dense,
As he pounded the last staples in and gathered tools to go,
The temperature had fallen and the snow began to blow.
When he finally reached his pickup, he felt a heavy heart,
From the sound of that ignition, he knew it wouldn't start.

So Jake did what most of us would do, if we'd have been there.
He humbly bowed his balding head and sent aloft a prayer.
As he turned the key for the last time, he softly cursed his
luck.
They found him three days later, frozen stiff in that old truck.
Now Jake had been around in life, and done his share of roamin'.
But when he saw Heaven, he was shocked -- it looked just like
Wyomin'!
Of all the saints in Heaven, his favorite was St. Peter. {Now
this line, it ain't needed but it helps with rhyme and meter.]
So they sat and talked a minute or two, or maybe it was three,
No one was keepin' score -- in Heaven time is free.
"I've always heard," Jake said to Pete, "that God will answer
prayer,
But one time I asked for help, and, well, He just plain wasn't
there.
Does God answer prayers of some, and ignore the prayers of
others? That don't seem exactly square -- I know all men are brothers.
Or does he randomly reply, without good rhyme or reason?
Maybe, it's the time of day, the weather or the season?
Now I ain't trying to act smart, it's just the way I feel, And I
was wonderin', could you tell me -- what the heck's the deal?"
Peter listened patiently and when old Jake was done,
There were smiles of recognition, and he said, "So, you're the
one!
That day your truck just wouldn't start, and you sent your
prayer a-flying?
You gave us all a real bad time, with hundreds of us trying.
A thousand angels rushed to check the status of your file,
But you know, Jake - - - we hadn't heard from you in quite a
while.
And though all prayers are answered, and God ain't got no quota,
He didn't recognize your voice - He started a truck in
South Dakota.

(Hebrews 10:24 NIV)
Taken from Headin" Home
A Collection of Cowboy Poetry
by Ken Howry        

A spur is a tool, not a weapon,
That is, if you're usin' 'em right.
It can help your horse find direction,
Or it can start a terrible fight!

I can use 'em to apply subtle pressure
Or jab 'im to cause 'im some pain.
But to get the response that I'm after,
From the latter I'll have to refrain.

Your spurs should never be bloody.
If they are, the lesson's not learned.
When understanding wins over anger,
You'll know that your spurs have been earned.

And, perhaps, when dealing with people
The same principles will hold true.
If you think of your tongue as a tool or a spur,
How it's used is all up to you!

So to keep them from kicking and bucking
Like a bronc with a blanket of burrs,
When it comes to horses . . . and people,
You best consider how you will spur.

                                            

Writin’  readin’  and  readin’  writin’
Are  different  things  you  know;

I  can  write  readin’  but  I  can’t  read  writin’
When  I  do  the  writin’  and  so

When  I  write  readin’,  I  think  some  thinkin’
About  the  readin’  I  wrote  in  my  note

Then  I  can  tell  how  the  writin’  would  read

   If  I  could  read  what  I  wrote.

I Love My Horse
By Frank Reynolds

Nod your head an’ rest,   old grey hoss -----
You’ve carried me many a mile today, 
An’ I’ve been thinkin’   as we jogged along,
Don’t I owe a bigger debt than I can pay?
I was thinkin’   of a sick baby on a dark night,
When death was buildin’  up a loop,  just so ----
An’ you carried me fast to a tired old doctor,
An’ because of you   death missed his ugly throw.
An’ I was thinking   of father and mother,
Comin’ out here to build their lives anew ----
How could they ever have made it,  old hoss,
If it hadn’t been for th’  likes of you?
I’m rememberin’ your courage, old-fellow,
When that bull caught me,   boots on th’ ground ----
An’ you stood without tremblin’ or fear,  old pardner,
‘Till I was back in the’ saddle   safe an’ sound.
I’ve been thinkin’ a lot o thoughts today,
As we traveled along,  you an’ me together,
Of how much a man owes to his good old hoss,
That’s made him a king sittin’ in saddle leather,

I love my family th’ best of all, I know,
An’ God, an’ Christ that died upon the cross ----
An’ then there ain’t no doubt wereat I stand,
‘Cause next it’s you I love,  my good old hoss.

I’ve been down the road a time or two, maybe more.
Tryin to win a prize, hopin my headin horse would score.
Thought I would find glory, in the bright arena lights.
But when the crowd went home, I was all alone, In the middle of the night.
Oh the winnin feels so good, but it’s rough when you get beat.
Then one spring in Texas, I saw a friend at the rodeo meet.
He said, “I’ve got a new partner”, someone I should know.
He told me all his hurts had been healed, by his faithful new friend.
He’s closer than a brother, and will stay there till the end.
His Healers name is JESUS, GOD’s own begotten SON.
And he’s purchased our salvation, by the things he has done.
No mortal man could pay the price, of our sins tremendous cost.
But the Healer with his sinless life, bought our redemption on the cross.
I just had to accept that gift, and then I was born again.
Now I have the greatest prize, that anyone could win.
Now I’m headin for the Healer, with times that can’t be beat.
Round every corner that I turn, my healer has two feet.
Yes I’m a headin for the Healer, what glory has been found.
My entry fees have been paid, and now I’m a heaven bound.

Author unknown

It was an old barn, on the out skirts of town.
Bushes and weed, and an acre of ground.
They couda done better, couda done worse.
But they fixed it up, into a church.

Made them some benches, and called them their pews.
Gathered up any old stuff they could use.
The alter was made, form an old wooden crate.
The whole thing was built, on their faith.

They called it a church, some called it a barn.
Winter was cold and Summer was warm.
Comfort came second, Jesus came first.
That’s why they called it a church.

The old weathered planks curled up on their ends.
Rusty tin roof,  let the weather come in.
Preachin and Prayin, and Hymns that were sung.
Out where tobacco once hung.

 

They didn’t dress up, came just as they were.
Working hands clean, and their loving hearts pure.
It’s been said, that God does mysterious work.
That’s why they called it a church.

They called it a church, some called it a barn.
Winter was cold, and Summer was warm.
Comfort came second, Jesus came first.
That’s why they called it a church.

Tom T. & Dixie Hall – Billy Smith (More Home Grown Music, ASCAP)